


5 + 1 Things About Daisy Johnson

by Persiflage



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: 5 + 1 Things, 5 Things, Adolescent Sexuality, BirthdayforDaisy, Bisexual Daisy Johnson, Canon Compliant, Childhood, Childhood Trauma, F/F, F/M, Female Friendship, First Kiss, Minor Character Death, Origin Story, POV Skye | Daisy Johnson, Pre-Canon, St. Agnes Orphanage, Underage Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 14:06:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7318249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daisy Johnson's origin story begins at St Agnes Orphanage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	5 + 1 Things About Daisy Johnson

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zauberer_sirin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/gifts).



> Back in February, during the MCU Ladies Week event on Tumblr, I wrote a [headcanon meta](http://pers-books.tumblr.com/post/139165944334/mcu-ladies-week-day-6-headcanonsau-headcanon) for Daisy Johnson centred around her time at St Agnes Orphanage. This week on Tumblr we're celebrating Daisy's birthday (join in via #birthdayforDaisy!), and I decided to turn my headcanon meta into an origin story fic for Daisy.  
> Thanks go to becketted | zauberer_sirin for beta-reading this and making it better than it would otherwise have been!

**[1]**

Mary Sue Poots is six and has just arrived back at St Agnes Orphanage, sent back by her first foster family. She's not sure what she did wrong – she doesn't think she did anything wrong, she's only six after all. She'd eaten all her vegetables, gone to bed when she was told – even if she was in the middle of an exciting story, and obeyed her foster parents whom she'd liked, especially Jenny, who was young and friendly, and had been crying when she helped Mary Sue to pack this morning. Only yesterday afternoon she'd braided beads into Mary Sue's hair, telling her that she would look so pretty with her hair done that way, and Mary Sue, despite her blue overalls, had actually felt pretty and not at all tomboyish. 

When Sister McKenna and the Mother Superior meet her in the hallway of the Orphanage she looks up at them, red-eyed and bewildered by the dislocation of her return after spending six summer weeks with Jenny and Eddie.

Sister McKenna's lips are pursed, but she doesn't look angry, Mary Sue notices – if anything, she looks sorry. Mary Sue scarcely dares to meet the Mother Superior's eyes – she can almost feel the anger radiating off the older woman, and it makes her want to run away and hide.

"Take the child upstairs," the Mother Superior says. "And get that rubbish out of her hair."

Mary Sue can't help it, her hand, the one that's not clutching her backpack, comes up to cover the beads in her hair, and she sees the Mother Superior's eyes narrow at the instinctive gesture.

"Come along, Mary Sue," Sister McKenna says as the Mother Superior turns and strides off, her heavy sensible shoes making a clomping noise that seems to weigh Mary Sue down. She swallows, then moves towards the other nun, sliding her hand into the hand that's held out to her. Sister McKenna's got the gentlest hands of any of the nuns at the Orphanage, and she's also the most cheerful of them – the others all seem dour and sour compared to Sister McKenna, and sometimes Mary Sue wonders if it's because she's younger and black-skinned instead of older and white-skinned like the rest of them.

She lets Sister McKenna lead her upstairs to the dorm room she shares with four other girls, thinking longingly of the bedroom she'd had at her foster home – just her and a couple of stuffed toys (a bear and a fawn) and no older girls to come rifling through her few possessions.

She sits patiently while Sister McKenna unbraids the beads from her hair, and answers the nun's questions about her time with her foster family. When all the beads are out, Sister McKenna tucks them into a little baggie she pulls from the pocket of her habit, then holds the bag out to Mary Sue.

"Here, child," she says in her soft voice. "The Mother Superior probably expects me to destroy these, but they're yours now."

Mary Sue takes the baggie, and she may be only six, but she's also very smart, and she doesn't need Sister McKenna's warning to know that she should keep them somewhere safe.

"Thank you," she whispers as she tucks the bag of beads into the front pocket of her overalls.

The nun nods, then gives her one of those assessing looks that Mary Sue's got used to receiving from adults. "You look like you could use a nap." She kneels down and unlaces Mary Sue's shoes, and removes them and her socks, then she lifts Mary Sue from the chair and carries her over to her bed. 

"Crying is tiring," Sister McKenna says, and pulls a very soft, clean handkerchief from her other pocket, and folds it into Mary Sue's hand. "Here." She brushes her fingers over Mary Sue's forehead, then says, "I'll bring you some supper later."

"But – " Mary Sue begins, a bit alarmed because she may be only six, but she knows that the Mother Superior wouldn't like that.

"Hush, child. I'll take care of it," Sister McKenna says, and Mary Sue's too tired and too numb with misery to offer any sort of argument.

"Thank you," she whispers, scarcely aware of the fresh tears sliding down her face.

"You're a good girl, Mary Sue," the nun says, and presses her lips briefly to Mary Sue's brow, then lets herself out of the dorm room, and eventually Mary Sue's tears subside and she slides into sleep, thoroughly worn out by the emotion of the day.

**[2]**

Mary Sue Poots is nine and has been back from her most recent foster home for about a week when she falls out of a tree and hurts her arm. Of course, as the Mother Superior didn't hesitate to inform her in an icy, unforgiving tone, she'd had no business climbing the tree in the first place – but though she's only nine, Mary Sue is already something of a rebel (that's the other nuns' word for her, although she notices that Sister McKenna never calls her that). She'd climbed the tree to find some peace and quiet: it's her birthday tomorrow and she knew she had nothing nice to look forward to, not now she's back at the orphanage. Her latest foster parents, Mark and Emily, had promised to take her to the zoo, and for pizza and ice cream afterwards – and it still baffles her that she had to come back to St Agnes so suddenly, and that both Mark and Emily had seemed so upset at having to send her back. 

She cannot fathom out who's to blame for the decision – it's something that's happened three or four times a year every year since she was six, and as she's got older, it's become increasingly clear that whoever it is who makes the decision that she shouldn't stay, it's not her foster parents (they nearly always seem very upset about losing her), and it's not the nuns (aside from Sister McKenna, they always blame Mary Sue – accusing her of all sorts of bad behaviour, no matter what her foster parents tell the Mother Superior when they bring her back).

So Mary Sue's sitting in a tree with her favourite book: _Matilda_ by a man with a very funny name, Roald Dahl. She likes Matilda because she's another lonely child, just like Mary Sue. Mark and Emily had bought her a copy of the book in the first week of her six week stay with them after learning she'd been reading it at the orphanage before she'd gone to stay with them.

She had thought she was safe from prying eyes in the tree since there's lots of spring growth to shield her, but she hadn't counted on Ella Lou. Eleven years old, and already bidding fair to be the kind of girl who will always get what she wants out of life because she knows how to twist people around her little finger, Ella Lou hates Mary Sue, and never hesitates to remind her of the fact. 

Ella Lou had been jeering and taunting all morning while Mary Sue was reading on her arboreal perch (and yes, she knows what arboreal means, thank you very much – she might only be nine years old, but she's an avid reader, and she knows her way around the dictionary), but then Ella Lou had roped in a couple of the older, bigger boys, and the three of them began throwing stones up at Mary Sue. Andy, who's the meanest orphan at St Agnes, and is a very big fourteen year old, has a strong arm and a good aim, and one of his stones hits Mary Sue on the forearm. She bites back her cry of pain, knowing it will only encourage further torment, but she can't stop tears from sliding down her face and she quickly closes her book so that her tears won't drip onto the pages. She stuffs the book down the front of her overalls and begins to climb higher as Andy and the others continue to hurl stones at her. Unfortunately for Mary Sue, one of the missiles smacks into the back of her hand and breaks her grip on the branch above her head, and she gives a sudden, sharp cry of fear as she begins to fall.

The older children run indoors, racing around to the back of the building so that they won't be caught, and as Mary Sue lies on the ground, sobbing and shaking, Matty hurries over, despite the fact he cannot see, and he reaches out to help Mary Sue. However she cries out when he touches her left arm, the pain causing a bright white light to blind her momentarily.

"I'll get help," he says, and hurries away.

Shortly there's a whole crowd of people under the trees, Matty and Sister McKenna among them, but it's the Mother Superior who takes charge, scolding Mary Sue and threatening her with dire punishments, her words echoed by the other nuns, apart from Sister McKenna. 

"Oh get the child inside, someone," snaps the Mother Superior finally as Mary Sue continues to lie sobbing on the ground.

Sister McKenna crouches down beside Mary Sue, then carefully scoops her up and carries her indoors.

"And no supper," the Mother Superior shouts before she disappears in the direction of her office.

"I'm sorry," Mary Sue gasps between wracking sobs, cradling her left arm with her right. "I didn't mean to."

"Hush now, child," Sister McKenna says in her warm, soothing voice. "I'll look after you. Don't I always?"

"Yes," Mary Sue agrees, because it's true – Sister McKenna is the one person who seems to genuinely care, and she is the only one who comforts and consoles her when she returns from yet another aborted stay with yet another foster family.

Sister McKenna carries Mary Sue into the Infirmary, ignoring the pointed remarks of waspish old Sister Mary Mathew, the nun in charge of the Infirmary, and Mary Sue finds herself lowered gently onto a bed with clean white sheets and a blue, green, and yellow patchwork quilt that makes her think of a spring day.

"I need to see if you've broken any bones," Sister McKenna tells her in her soft voice, her eyes anxious but warm. "I'll be as gentle as I can, but this might hurt. Okay?"

"Okay," Mary Sue says in a tight voice, her whole body tense with fear and the awful pain in her arm.

Sister McKenna carefully eases her out of her clothes, leaving her in just her panties; she checks Mary Sue over carefully, anointing her bruises with something called Arnica that smells funny but is quite soothing. She's especially careful with Mary Sue's left arm, which is throbbing so much that she can hardly stand to have it touched or moved. 

"It's not broken," Sister McKenna tells her eventually. "But you're going to have some spectacular bruises soon."

"It hurts," Mary Sue whispers.

"I know, child, I know." She administers further Arnica, then gives her a spoonful of Tylenol to swallow to help dull the pain. 

"Let's get you upstairs," Sister McKenna says once she's got Mary Sue back into her clothes.

Mary Sue stumbles twice before they've even reached the staircase, so Sister McKenna picks her up and walks swiftly upstairs; Mary Sue has the feeling that the nun is hoping to avoid anyone seeing them – she guesses that the Mother Superior would be very disapproving if she saw Sister McKenna carrying Mary Sue.

"Where are we going?" she asks in confusion when Sister McKenna doesn't take her towards her dorm room.

"I'm going to put you in my bed for now," the nun says quietly. "If you're in your room someone will come and bother you, either on purpose to upset you, or by accident, and you won't get any rest, which is what you need most right now."

"But – " Mary Sue begins, simultaneously horrified and grateful, and annoyed with herself that she's so grateful at the prospect of solitude that she wants to cry all over again.

"Child, you worry too much."

In a few years time, a remark like that will make Mary Sue snort, but she's not yet that cynical, so she doesn't argue, deciding that Sister McKenna knows best.

The nun's room is as bare as Mary Sue's dorm room, which comes as a surprise, but she doesn't ask questions, she just shifts a little against the pillow as Sister McKenna settles her on the bed, pulling the heavy comforter up to her waist.

"I'll come and check on you before Vespers, and bring you some supper then." When Mary Sue opens her mouth to remind Sister McKenna that the Mother Superior said she was to go without supper, the nun shakes an admonitory finger at her. "Don't say it, child," she says, a hint of a smile playing around the corners of her mouth. "It's not right to deprive a growing child of food. So I will bring you some."

"Thank you Sister McKenna," Mary Sue whispers.

"Get some sleep, if you can."

Mary Sue nods, her eyelids already feeling heavy.

MSP-S-DJ-Q

Sister McKenna wakes Mary Sue with a gentle brush of her fingers against Mary Sue's cheek, then helps her to sit up. Mary Sue's surprised to find she doesn't ache as much as she did – even her arm hurts less than before. She answers the nun's questions about her aches and pains, then accepts her help to climb off the bed and sit in the straight-backed wooden chair that sits in front of a plain wooden table in the corner. On the table is a tray holding a bowl of chicken noodle soup, a bread roll, and a peach. There's also a tall glass of milk, which Mary Sue reaches for as soon as the two of them have said a quick grace.

"Can you find your way back to your dorm room from here?" Sister McKenna asks, and Mary Sue nods, unaware of the milky moustache she's given herself until the nun wipes her upper lip clean.

"Then leave these things here when you've finished, and go back downstairs to your dorm room. I'll come and check on you before Lights Out."

"Thank you Sister McKenna."

The nun nods, then lets herself out, and Mary Sue doesn't waste any time in eating her supper. Afterwards she makes her way back downstairs to the dorm room she shares with three other girls, and is relieved to find it empty, and equally relieved not to run into anyone on the way. By the time Sister McKenna comes back to check on her, she's half asleep again, and the nun only wishes her a good night before leaving Mary Sue to get some more sleep.

**[3]**

Mary Sue's not big on religion – the nuns with whom she shares space at St Agnes Orphanage are very big on it, of course, but the God they worship seems like a scary old man who has lots of rules about things people shouldn't do, especially children who are unfortunate enough to be orphaned. 

The only nun that twelve year old Mary Sue has any time for is Sister McKenna, a woman of about thirty-five who always seems to make a point of championing Mary Sue, especially when the Mother Superior is on the warpath because Mary Sue has been sent back to the orphanage by yet another foster family. By the time she's twelve, Mary Sue has given up trying to make sense of the situation that sees her spending time with three or four foster families per year – nearly all of whom seem to send her back to St Agnes with great reluctance. 

Sister McKenna is kind to everyone – as far as Mary Sue can figure out, that seems to be her default state of being since the nun appears incapable of being mean to anyone, even the Mother Superior. 

One day, Mary Sue and Sister McKenna are sitting in the garden at the back of the orphanage; they sit either side of a roughly made wooden table, and they're shelling peas for the dinner that the Mother Superior is hosting for some of the wealthy local business owners, hoping to attract their financial support for the orphanage.

"Why are you a nun?" Mary Sue asks. It's something she's wondered about for a very long time – she tends to think that Sister McKenna is wasted being a nun as she could have been a teacher, or a nurse, or better yet, a doctor.

"Why do you think?" asks Sister McKenna.

Mary Sue shrugs. She's not quite a teen yet, but she's lately acquired a number of teen gestures and habits: the shrug is probably her most common gesture.

"Think about it some," Sister McKenna urges, her fingers unwavering even though her eyes are on Mary Sue's face.

"You fell in love with a married man and he wouldn't leave his wife for you, so you married Jesus instead." Mary Sue's got a very expressive face around the people she likes, and at the moment it's expressing the view that this is a ridiculous scenario.

Sister McKenna seems to agree because she laughs, a big belly laugh that makes her shoulders shake, and after a moment Mary Sue can't help laughing too.

"Child, you've been reading too many bad romances," she says once she's managed to stop laughing.

Mary Sue shrugs again, but she's smirking across the table at her mentor now. "Why then?"

"Because I wanted to help people," Sister McKenna says in a calm voice. "You know what I was taught when I was a child younger than you?"

Mary Sue shakes her head, held tilted to one side as she regards the nun in a very serious manner. "What?"

"God is love," Sister McKenna states. "That's the most important thing anyone can learn. He loves every single part of His Creation."

"But – " Mary Sue begins, and the nun smiles. 'But' is one of Mary Sue's stock words, and always leads to questions.

"But what?" she asks.

"Sister Mary Patrick – last week – " Mary Sue stops and gulps for breath, and Sister McKenna reaches across the table to clasps Mary Sue's hands in her own. 

"Breathe slowly, breathe steadily," the nun says calmly, and Mary Sue nods and breathes. 

"Last week, Sister Mary Patrick said that it was wrong for a man to love another man, or a woman to love another woman, like a man loves a woman."

Sister McKenna nods. "Sister Mary Patrick belongs to a different era," she says. "An era where black men and women were considered second class citizens, if they weren't servants. In the same way, she thinks that lesbians – that's women who love women – before you ask, or gay men – are sinners, and that homosexuality is forbidden by the Bible."

"Isn't it?" Mary Sue asks abruptly, startled by the idea that Sister Mary Patrick might be wrong.

"No. Jesus loved everyone you know: the tax-collectors, the prostitutes, the poor and needy, those who were sick in body or mind, the children. He had a lot less time for the rich, of course – or, well, he was impatient with them, I suppose we'd say now."

"It's easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of Heaven," she recites.

Sister McKenna positively beams at Mary Sue. "So you do listen," the nun teases.

"Sometimes," Mary Sue tells her. "Mostly I read."

"Reading is good."

Mary Sue nods. It's true that Sister McKenna has always encouraged her to read, and has never set any kinds of restrictions on what she reads – unlike the other nuns: Mary Sue had learned at a young age to hide her books from other people, but especially the nuns who would otherwise confiscate her books and never return them.

"So it's okay for women to kiss or – you know – do other stuff?"

"If that's the way someone's inclined, yes, it's okay. So long as you both consent to it."

Mary Sue frowns. "You mean you both agree to the kissing and other stuff," she says, and gets a nod in return.

"Is there a girl you like, Mary Sue?" Sister McKenna asks gently after a few more minutes of silent pea shelling.

She purses her lips and feels heat in her cheeks, then gives a quick nod. This is Sister McKenna after all – the one person she feels fairly safe about confiding in, so far at least.

"If you want to talk to me about it, you can," the nun tells her, her eyes on her fingers as she works, and Mary Sue appreciates the fact that she's not being stared at. "What about boys?"

"I like them too, kinda," Mary Sue says carefully, remembering the crush she'd had on Matty. It hadn't lasted, and wasn't nearly as intense as the crush she's currently got on Clara, who's 15 and very glamorous in Mary Sue's eyes.

"When someone likes boys and girls that's called bisexuality," Sister McKenna says, her voice careful as she imparts this information. 

"Okay."

The peas are all shelled, so Sister McKenna carries the bowl inside while Mary Sue carries the shells around the corner to the compost heap. She wonders what it would be like to kiss Clara – she's seen kissing on TV, of course – although the nuns aren't aware of that; her last foster family had been pretty liberal and hadn't placed as many restrictions on Mary Sue's TV watching as the Mother Superior does at the orphanage.

She's about to make her way back inside when a voice goes "Psst!", and she turns around to see the teen in question standing under the trees. She feels heat flush her body and hopes she's not obviously blushing. Clara beckons and Mary Sue glances around quickly, then trots across to join her.

"Mary Sue, do me a favour?"

She nods eagerly, and is surprised when a packet of cigarettes is pressed into her hands. She looks down at the pack, then up at Clara's face, confused.

"Hide these for me? If Her Superiorness catches me with smokes, I'll be in major trouble."

Mary Sue can't help giggling at Clara's nickname for the Mother Superior, and she feels a flutter of excitement at the thought of helping Clara – she hadn't thought the teen even knew of her existence.

"Good girl." Clara's approving smile warms Mary Sue right through, and then the teen's lips are pressed against hers, and Mary Sue feels as if her entire body's on fire. "I knew you liked me," she murmurs, catching hold of Mary Sue's overalls and tugging her closer. "I like you too."

Mary Sue's response is swallowed by Clara's mouth, and she's startled when the older girl pushes her tongue against Mary Sue's lips. She opens her mouth to gasp in surprise, and is even more shocked when Clara's tongue ends up inside her mouth. She can feel her knees growing weak, and a surge of heat through her body leaves her breathless, and slightly frightened by the wetness between her legs, as if she'd peed her pants, but she knows she hasn't.

"I'll come and get them back off you tonight, after Lights Out," Clara tells her once she releases Mary Sue's mouth, then she turns on her heel and saunters away, her hips swaying in a manner that Mary Sue finds frankly mesmerising. She presses her fingertips to her lips, and wishes Clara hadn't gone away – she'd like to be kissed like that again.

When she turns around to head back inside she sees Sister McKenna standing in the kitchen doorway, and she feels herself blushing very hard. The nun comes outside, and gestures to the table where they had been sitting before.

"Is Clara the girl you like?" Sister McKenna asks after they're seated again.

Mary Sue nods, a bit mortified when she realises the nun must have seen Clara kissing her.

"Child, you need to be careful of that one," Sister McKenna says, her tone is so serious that Mary Sue, who was about to speak, is silenced instead. The nun gives her a long, thoughtful look, then says, "I don't like to tell tales out of school, but you need to know that Clara is on notice – if she's caught violating one more rule of St Agnes, she'll be sent away. The Mother Superior considers her a very bad influence."

Mary Sue hunches her shoulders, very conscious of the pack of cigarettes that's lurking behind the front of her overalls. 

"I don't want to hurt you, Mary Sue, but I want Clara to hurt you even less. You know that the Mother Superior and I don't always see eye to eye on some things, but in this case we're in agreement – Clara isn't a good influence – she's got more than one of the younger children into grave trouble in the last few months."

Mary Sue looks at the kindly face opposite hers, then slowly, reluctantly, slips her hand behind the bib of her overalls and pulls out the pack of cigarettes. "She wanted me to hide these," she says quietly, feeling ashamed for ratting out Clara, but also for falling for the older girl's wiles: she needs to be smarter than this, she knows. Sister McKenna doesn't know this, but Mary Sue isn't planning on staying here until she's 18 and the nuns send her away because she's too old to stay any longer. She's going to leave when she's ready, and she'll do a better job of fending for herself than this, she swears.

Sister McKenna accepts the cigarettes, then reaches over the table and covers Mary Sue's hands with her own, squeezing them gently. "You've done the right thing, child. I know you probably don't feel that way just now, but you have." She digs into the pocket of her habit and brings out a candy bar, which she passes to the startled Mary Sue. "Go find some place to eat this quietly," she says, "and I'll go and talk to the Mother Superior. I'll come find you when it's over." 

She lifts her right hand from Mary Sue's and reaches up to cup her cheek, thumbing away the tears that Mary Sue wasn't even aware she was shedding.

Mary Sue nods, then gets to her feet, whispering her thanks for the candy, then stumbles away – her knees weak from shame now. She climbs her favourite tree (the same one she fell out of three years ago), and settles on her usual perch to eat the candy slowly.

Sometimes life is just too complicated, she thinks.

**[4]**

Mary Sue is fifteen, and planning and working hard towards leaving St Agnes Orphanage. No one knows of her plans – not even Sister McKenna, although she's been tempted lately to tell the nun. She's not going to, although she'll leave her a note to explain because she doesn't want the only person who's ever taken a genuine interest in her to be left wondering if something awful's befallen her. 

She slips in through the kitchen door, having picked the lock easily enough, and is half way across the kitchen when a slight noise makes her stiffen in place.

"Mary Sue," says a soft voice, and Sister McKenna steps out of the darkness in the corner.

Mary Sue feels a surge of annoyance – she only had three more months to go, and she'd have been out of here, free and clear, and in charge of her own life. No more humiliations from the Mother Superior, who's never forgiven her for failing to be adopted despite the number of foster families she's stayed with over the years; no more snide remarks from the other nuns; no more taunting from the younger children.

"I can explain," Mary Sue says in a low voice, then wonders what explanation the older woman will accept.

"It's all right," the nun says, her voice equally as low. "You don't have to explain – I know you've been going to the NYU Computer Lab."

She can't help it, she just gapes at Sister McKenna, too stunned to even ask how the nun knows. Sister McKenna reaches out and pushes on her chin gently, and Mary Sue closes her mouth.

"How?" she demands quietly.

The nun tsks at her, then says, "Come with me."

Too curious to disobey, Mary Sue follows her as she leads the way across the main hall, then down a side corridor and into the office at the back that Sister McKenna's been using for the last two years after the previous administrator for the Orphanage died.

Mary Sue automatically closes the door behind her, then Sister McKenna snaps on the desk lamp. "Sit down," she says, her voice still on the quiet side.

Mary Sue obeys, and folds her hands neatly in her lap. She hasn't the faintest idea what's going on, but she suspects that she's not about to find herself grounded and confined to her room for the next few weeks, which had been her first thought.

"I followed you," Sister McKenna says. "I saw you slipping out one night about a month ago, and I was worried, so I tailed you until you reached the Computer Lab. I can't say that I was surprised that was where you'd gone – I'm aware of the amount of private studying you've been doing over the last year and a half since you got so interested in CS." She rubs a hand over her face, and it occurs to Mary Sue that she's tired. "I won't lie to you and say that I was disappointed that you felt you couldn't confide in me – but I understand why you felt you couldn't."

"I – " Mary Sue begins, but the nun waves her to silence.

"Let me finish, please." When Mary Sue nods, she continues, "I know that no one here, except me, has ever given you much support or encouragement, though you've deserved both. You've worked extremely hard at your studies over the years, despite the haphazard nature of your schooling from where you've been shuffled back and forth between here and a variety of foster homes. I'm both impressed and very proud of what you've achieved."

Mary Sue blinks fiercely against the prickle of tears.

"If anyone here had an ounce of common sense, or the least bit of compassion for you, you would have been supplied with a decent computer for your own use so you could advance your studies by yourself. So I'm not going to condemn you for taking whatever steps you felt were necessary to do that under your own steam. Mary Sue, I'm aware you won't be with us for too much longer – " 

Mary Sue hopes the nun isn't aware of the way her breath seems to hitch in her chest at the older woman's words. 

"We haven't done very well by you, and I'm profoundly disappointed by the amount of prejudice certain people have displayed towards you. I find it hard to forgive those who told you that computer science was a subject suitable for boys, not girls, and discouraged you from your studies. I just want you to know that I trust you, and I'm glad you've found a way around the restrictions that have been placed upon you. I hope you will continue to do so. I also hope that if there's ever anything you need to talk about, you'll come to me. I can't force you to do so, of course, but I hope that you will."

"Thank you," Mary Sue whispers around the lump of emotion in her throat. "I'm sorry I've been going behind your back."

"Don't be," Sister McKenna says, startling her yet again.

"But – "

The nun shook her head. "Yes, you've been breaking the rules, but so long as doing so hasn't led you into any mischief, I will not condemn you for it."

"Thank you."

Sister McKenna nodded. "Go and get some sleep, Mary Sue."

"Goodnight." She let herself out of the office and made her way softly upstairs. At fifteen she is the oldest orphan left at St Agnes, and as a consequence she has a room of her own so at least she doesn't have to worry about waking her roommates when she sneaks back in. 

She closes her door, then peels out of her clothes, dropping her socks and underwear into the hamper in the corner of her room, before she pulls on the pyjamas that she prefers to wear in bed. As she curls on her side, she wonders what Sister McKenna would say if she knew that Mary Sue has been getting into a specific sort of mischief – she hopes that the nun would like Mary Sue's girlfriend, Annie, were they ever to meet, but she's not sure Sister McKenna would approve of the fact that Annie and Mary Sue have been experimenting sexually together. Annie's already 16 and has known for ages that she's a lesbian, which awes Mary Sue, who's a few months shy of her 16th birthday and still not sure of her sexuality: she thinks she might be bisexual because she's had crushes on boys as well as girls, but she's also wondering if it's 'just a phase' (a phrase she's heard adults use about all sorts of teenage stuff).

So far she and Annie haven't had sex, there's just been a lot of kissing and touching each other under their clothes, but Mary Sue would like to do more – Annie makes her feel safe, and that's such a rare feeling for Mary Sue.

Mary Sue's also been teaching Annie the CS that she hadn't managed to master before arriving in New York six months ago, when she and her adopted family moved here for her mom's work. Annie had told Mary Sue, when they met in NYU's bookshop, that she was too stupid to learn CS, but Mary Sue hadn't believed her, and in setting out to prove the other girl wrong, had fallen half way in love. It saddens her to think that she and Annie might lose touch after Mary Sue leaves St Agnes (she's not sure yet whether she's going to stay in New York – she's considering heading further south, where it's warmer), but Mary Sue's determined not to let anyone stand in the way of what she wants to do, not even her girlfriend.

**[5]**

"Hey, hey! Skye!" Miles snaps his fingers in front of Skye's face, and she looks up at him, biting on her bottom lip in an effort to keep her tears at bay.

"Hey, what's up?" Miles' obvious concern tells her that she might not have succeeded too well. He slings an arm around her shoulders, and she's torn between wanting to tell him – even though she doesn't think he'll truly understand – and wanting to keep this to herself because she's not great at sharing emotional stuff, even with him, although they've been together for nearly a year now.

"Someone I used to know has died," she tells him finally, not looking at him, but aware that he's gazing at her very intently.

"Who, Skye?" he asks, and his tone is so gentle, even as he slips his arm from around her shoulders so he can rub her back, that she decides to tell him at least a little.

"A woman I knew – someone who was at the Orphanage. She was about the only person there who actually took an interest in me."

He leans his shoulder into hers, then brushes his nose against her cheek. "I'm sorry," he says quietly. 

"Thanks."

"What can I do to make you feel better?" he asks, and she wonders what he'd say if she asked him to let her go home. Then she thinks about her roommates, and how Jenny was excited about having her girlfriend over for dinner (and, she hoped, more), and how Marcus was planning to shut himself in his room and play – she struggles to remember which video game he's currently obsessed with, and decides it's unimportant – all night, or until he finally beat it, whichever happened first. 

Before she can answer Miles' question, he answers it for her. "I know, ice cream!" His whole face lights up, like a little kid at Christmas.

"We don't have any," she points out. "You said we couldn't afford it."

"Oh yeah." His face falls, and Skye feels bad for mentioning it, then wonders why since it was Miles' decision not hers.

He pulls away from her and bounces across the room to grab his leather jacket from the sofa where he'd dropped it when he came in ten minutes ago. She sees him digging in his pockets, but she returns her attention back to the newspaper she'd been reading when she saw the notice of Sister McKenna's death.

"Ta da!" He bounces back to her side and dumps a handful of coins on the table. "I can go and buy you some ice cream."

"Thanks," she says, forcing a smile.

He scoops the coins back up, stuffs them into his jeans pocket, leans over to give her a very sloppy kiss, then rushes out. Once he's gone she folds her arms on the table, then puts her head down on top of them and sobs quietly. Sister McKenna is the only one of the nuns from St Agnes whom she ever missed after she ran away at sixteen – and she finds herself remembering all sorts of incidents from the past – the way the nun had so carefully removed the beads a foster mother had braided into her hair when she was six, and then given them to Skye to keep; the time she fell out of a tree and almost broke her left arm, and Sister McKenna putting her to sleep in her own bed for a few hours; the first time Skye had ever kissed another girl, and getting caught in the act by Sister McKenna, who'd been far more worried about Clara's bad influence than in Skye's burgeoning discovery of her sexuality; the night, scant months before she'd run away from St Agnes, when Sister McKenna had caught her letting herself back into St Agnes, and the way the nun had praised her diligence in studying CS. She wondered what Sister McKenna would have said had she known that Skye was learning CS so that she could learn how to hack because she'd wanted to find out what SHIELD knew about her after she'd discovered a redacted letter from SHIELD in her file the night she'd broken into the Mother Superior's office.

She'd left a letter for Sister McKenna explaining her decision to leave St Agnes before she was legally obliged to – but she's never found out what the nun thought about that decision. Once or twice, she's been tempted to drop by St Agnes to see the older woman, but in the end, she'd always decided against it, not wanting to face the many memories that would be stirred up by such a return. She had even, quite recently, considered writing to Sister McKenna with an actual contact address so that the nun could write back to her, but somehow she hadn't got around to it, and now it's far too late.

She sits up, rubs her eyes, then goes into the tiny bathroom to wash her face. She'd prefer not to be too red-eyed when Miles returns. She wonders if Matty knows about Sister McKenna, then wonders if she should go to the funeral. The Mother Superior of St Agnes is relatively new – the old one had finally died two years after Skye had run away – and Sister Mary Patrick and Sister Mary Mathew are also long gone. Thinking about it some more she realises that she probably wouldn't know any of the nuns at the Orphanage now, and it's that thought that makes her decide not to go to the funeral. There's no point in attending if there isn't going to be anyone there to secretly gloat at.

When Miles returns twenty minutes later, he beams at her, thrusts a tub of Ben & Jerry's into her hands, then hurries into the kitchen area to grab a couple of spoons.

"This'll make you feel better," he tells her, and she nods, accepts one of the spoons from him, then digs in. "And afterwards we can have sex, if you want."

She finds herself wishing he hadn't mentioned that – she'd have preferred for it to be more spontaneous than that. Luckily she has a mouth full of ice cream, so she just nods, half smiling at him, and considering ways and means to avoid physical intimacy with him tonight. There are times when sex with Miles really is comforting, but she doubts tonight would be one of those times.

Luckily his cell rings a few minutes later, and when he digs it out of his jeans pocket and answers she hears him mentioning the names of a couple of his mates – mates who are just too intimidated by a woman who's good at CS (and better than both of them, as she's managed to prove twice), to want to come around if Skye's there.

"Hey," he says once he's finished the call. "So it turns that Mick and Nick are really deep into a hack and they could use some help."

"It's fine," she says immediately, waving him off and hoping he can't tell how relieved she is for the fact that Mick and Nick need him.

"I may not be back tonight," he warns, and she nods, letting him kiss her brief and hard on the mouth, before he grabs his laptop and heads out.

Skye decides to take a bath – something she doesn't get to indulge in too often – and then maybe she'll have an early night to get over this emotional upheaval. She puts the lid back on the tub of ice cream and shoves into the freezer, dumps their spoons by the sink, then heads into the bedroom she shares with Miles when she sleeps over. She sheds her clothes, pulls on the ratty, worn robe that usually hangs on the back of the bedroom door, then grabs her bath salts, shampoo, and other things, and heads into the bathroom. Time for some 'me time', she thinks.

**[+1]**

"How's Robin?" Coulson asks as Daisy comes to join him on the park bench where he's been sitting in the sun reading a Travis McGee novel.

"She's good," Daisy says. "And Mrs Hinton and Dr Winslow."

"I'm glad to hear it." 

The great thing about Phil Coulson is that he genuinely means it – he knows about the promise she made to Charles that night on the rooftop, and he is really happy that she's been able to visit Robin Hinton on a regular basis to keep an eye on her. Even when Daisy was running around as Quake, keeping three steps ahead of the ATCU, she made a point of visiting Robin and her mom.

"Do we have a mission?" she asks as he slips his book into the backpack Daisy carries, the one from which he'd retrieved it a couple of hours ago. He's always happy to come with Daisy when she visits, but he never comes to the house with her – she suspects he feels he'd be intruding, and Daisy doesn't know how to tell him that his presence wouldn't be intrusive.

"Nope. Mack told me that May said we didn't need to rush back."

She nods. "And how is May?" she asks softly.

"She's okay. Has good days and bad days like – " He cuts himself off, but she knows he was going to say like she herself does. 

The hardest part of being back in SHIELD is facing May every day, knowing that Andrew died for her – he's not the only one who did, of course, but his loss seems to hurt the worst, even more so than Lincoln's death. Daisy had wanted them to be happy together and it hurts to know that between her actions and those of Jiaying, May and Andrew were robbed of the second chance they both wanted.

Coulson clasps her elbow, and as he says her name she realises that she's been too in her own head to hear whatever he just said to her.

"Sorry Phil," she says, trying to smile at him.

"It's okay," he says. "I was only asking if you wanted to get some take out. Or I could cook for you?"

She raises her eyebrows at that suggestion, and he looks a little flustered for a moment. "Your safehouse has some basic supplies," he tells her. "I noticed this morning when I was getting some breakfast."

"Are you sure you don't mind cooking?" she asks, which is probably a silly question because she knows how much he loves to cook.

"Of course not," he says, grinning at her. "It's always nice to cook for someone who appreciates my cooking so thoroughly."

She laughs, punches him lightly on the shoulder, then gestures to the park gates. "Shall we?"

He nods, and they cross the park, then walk across town to Daisy's safehouse. She'd set up several in various states while she was on the run, but this is the only one she's continued to maintain since the Sokovia Accords were dismantled and she joined the newly reformed SHIELD. The ATCU is no more – the President agreed to dismantle that, too, once the Accords were taken off the statute books, and SHIELD is back, and in the government's good books again, although they're still in the shadows. And they've finally rebuilt the Playground, where May is the Director and Mack is her second in command, while Daisy and Coulson are, officially, in joint charge of the Secret Warriors team. In reality, though, Daisy's in charge and Coulson's her second in command because he refuses to make any decisions on behalf of Inhumans when he's not one himself. 

They walk up the street together, and Daisy's thoughts go back to Robin, and to the handful of other orphans of Inhumans whom she'd met during her year and a half on the run.

"Penny for them," Coulson says, nudging her shoulder with his as they turn into the driveway of the safehouse.

"I was thinking about Robin, and the others like her whom I met while I was Quake."

"Did you meet many?" he asks as she unlocks the door and lets them in.

"Too many," she says, then adds, "with Robin there's half a dozen that I know of – but there are probably more orphaned children of Inhumans out there who themselves have the potential to become Inhumans." 

"You're worried about them," he says as they remove their coats and shoes, then wander towards the kitchen.

"I'm wondering if there's more I could be doing to help them," she tells him. "I mean, I'm already boosting the funds of the orphanages where they were taken, and I've got promises from the people in charge that they'll let me know if, or rather when, the children are placed with foster families."

"Perhaps you could fund an orphanage for them?" Coulson suggests as he begins to open cabinet doors. 

She frowns at his back. "A school," she says, and he turns around, two tins of tomatoes in his hands.

"A school?" he repeats, his expression doubtful. 

"Yeah. A boarding school, so they can be together. They can be taught about the history of Inhumans as well as regular stuff." She feels animated by the idea, and grins at him. He smiles back, but there's a certain wariness in his expression too, and she feels her excitement slipping away. "What?" she asks.

"I'm not saying this is a bad idea, Daisy, because it's not – "

"But?" she interrupts, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Well, it's a big undertaking. It's not something you could rush into – you'd need teaching staff, and other staff too, to run even a regular day school, but for a boarding school, you'd need even more support staff. You'd need a building, unless you buy a plot of land and build from scratch. And how are you going to protect the children, and the staff too? Your mother had Afterlife, but at least they had the protection of it being a remote community that was only accessible because Gordon could teleport people in and out. Well, okay, it was also accessible by air, once we had the coordinates, but – "

"I get it, Phil," she snaps, turning away, annoyed with herself because she feels so hurt by his reaction. "I'm idealistic, a naïve idiot who thinks they can make the world a better place."

"Daisy," he says softly, his hand on her elbow. "You're not a naïve idiot, and you already have made the world a better place for a whole bunch of people, Robin Hinton among them. I'm not trying to put you off the idea. I think it's a great idea, and very typical of you. But you'd have to do this separately from SHIELD – if you want to do this properly, and knowing you as well as I do, I know you'll want to do it properly, then it's going to take a lot of time and energy – you probably wouldn't have time for both founding a school and being a SHIELD agent. To even get the school set up will be a time-consuming process because you'd need to interview staff personally to make sure you're getting the very best people in to take care of these orphans."

She rubs a hand over her face, knowing that he's right – there's no way she could take on teachers or support staff without vetting them personally. She'd prefer to have Inhumans if at all possible, but she's aware that might not be a realistic hope.

"I need to think about this," she tells him.

He nods. "I think you do," he says. "Meanwhile, I'll make some dinner, if you're still up for it?"

She gives a soft laugh. "Yeah, Phil, I'm up for dinner. What're you making?"

"I thought we'd have spaghetti Carbonara."

"That sounds good," she agrees. He smiles, and she thinks about how lucky she is to have Coulson around – he is an excellent ally. "I think I'm gonna grab a quick shower and change, then I'll get my laptop out, start some research."

"I'll give you a shout when it's ready," he tells her.

"Thanks Phil."

"Any time."

She leaves him to make them dinner, and hurries upstairs to shower and change, a list already forming in her mind. She wants to make a bigger difference in these children's lives, and she wants to offer them more options than she was given as an orphan. Everyone deserves a second chance, she thinks, recalling Coulson's favourite phrase, and she's determined to give it to them.


End file.
